Heights of the Depths (15 page)

He turned just in time to see Eutok catching the blade of the stone sword between his massive palms. Tobis blanched as he realized he was unable to free his weapon from Eutok’s grip. Furthermore, he saw the Chancellor’s face and realized his death was written in Eutok’s expression. He released his hold on his sword, backpedalled, and then turn and ran straight for the cave.

Tobis didn’t make it. Eutok threw the sword like a javelin and it drove through Tobis’s back and out the front, impaling him. Tobis looked down, never more surprised, as he saw the blade sticking out his chest. He tried to grab at it as if he could somehow push it back out the other way and thus survive the fatal wound. Then he lost all feeling to his legs and tumbled forward.

Eutok strode toward him and crouched next to him. “You knew,” he said. “The entire time, you knew. And you tried to catch me off guard by acting as if you hadn’t heard about what transpired.”

“Not tried…,” Tobis managed to say. “Did…catch you…would have…if not for damned…Bottom Feeder,” and he tilted his bearded chin toward Karsen.

“I’m pleased I was able to disappoint you,” Karsen said.

Tobis’s chin twitched violently, and then before Eutok could move, a wad of bloodied spittle flew from Tobis’s lips and landed on his face.

“Traitor,” growled Tobis, and then his head slumped to one side and his eyes glazed over.

Eutok reached up, wiped the spittle from his face, and then smeared it on Tobis’s beard. For good measure he kicked the dead Trull. Then he reached back around, placed one oversized foot against Tobis’s back for balance, and yanked hard. The sword came free with a loud splutch and Eutok studied it. “Decent enough weapon,” he said.

“You want it, you’re carrying it,” said Karsen. He had placed the war hammer back in its strap on his back.

“A warrior should be well armed.”

“I’m not a warrior. I just do what I need to do and take no relish in it.”

“Nor do I.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true,” said Eutok, who knew that it was not. Karsen knew as well but chose not to make an issue of it. Eutok took the sword belt off Tobis’s body, fastened it around his own waist, and slid the sword in. “How did you know?”

“Know? That they were simply trying to get close enough to you to kill you?”

“Yes.”

Karsen shrugged. “It was obvious. The way they carried themselves, looking ready to leap upon you at the first opportunity. Their fists were clenched. Their words were laced with lies. They tried too hard to sound as if they had not heard what had transpired with you. I know not if Trulls as a race are bad liars, but these examples certainly were.”

“We have to hurry and keep hurrying. They will know we are here.”

“How will anyone know? We’ve just dispatched these two.”

“They are scouts, true, but scouts report back regularly. They are as expert in navigating Trullers as anyone else,” he said, referring to the high speed underground means of conveyance. “When they do not report back, it will be assumed that something has happened to them. The further assumption will be that I was involved, considering that the only thing that would have lured Trulls out from underground would be me. The Trulls will converge on this area, and trust me, Trullers can move far faster than whores.”

“I know,” said Karsen. “I rode in one, remember?”

“Yes. It seems a lifetime ago, but yes, I remember.”

The whores had settled down with the demise of the attacking Trulls. Now Karsen and Eutok remounted, knowing that further attempts at resting in that area would be far too hazardous. “Out of curiosity: Do Trull tunnels reach all the way to Murako?”

“Of course they do. Our digs reach from one end of the land to the other.”

“What about to other lands? Other continents?”

Eutok paused and then shrugged. “Not to my knowledge.”

“I suppose we have to hope it doesn’t come to that, then. Come. We have a long way to go before we dare rest again, I think.”

“Aye, we do. By the way…”

“Yes?”

Eutok appeared as if he were about to vomit up something truly foul that had lodged in his chest, and then he managed to cough up two words: “Thank you.”

“For what…oh. For saving your life, you mean.”

“For warning me,” Eutok said quickly. “You did not save my life. I saved my own life. You simply warned me that my life was in peril. I did the rest.”

Astride his whores, Karsen bowed slightly. “I never meant to suggest otherwise.”

Moments later they were riding across the plains while birds, as if sharing some manner of psychic link, converged upon the fallen bodies of two Trulls and prepared to feast.

en route to Perriz

I.

The hiding had been the
 worst part of the trip.

Initially Clarinda would have thought that it was going to be the constant state of paranoia. The certainty that, at any moment, more Piri would descend upon them and attack them, led by the implacable Bartolemayne.

But it hadn’t happened. It had not happened, and she could not begin to guess why that might be. Her mother, Sunara Redeye, had sworn to her that she would be pursued by the Piri no matter where she tried to run.

Why would they stop,
 she wondered. 
They wouldn’t stop. That’s the only possible answer. They wouldn’t stop, which means that they are continuing to pursue us except we’re not seeing them. Why are we not seeing them? There must be some reason for it. Why would they hide themselves from us? It must be to lull us into a false sense of security. Which means we cannot relax vigilance for a moment. But that’s going to wear us down until we’re in no shape to fight or even string coherent thoughts together. What is their plan? Is it possible they don’t actually have a plan? Maybe they’re not out there at all. Maybe my mother simply decided to let me go, and to hell with me, because if I didn’t want to be part of our race, then why should my race go to such lengths to get me back? Maybe she did it out of love. Gods, I hate her.

Night by night as they trekked, she kept going over the same things in her head. The problem was that the further they got from the land of Feend, the longer the trek took. She had known that was an inevitable result of their putting distance between themselves and their homeland, but it had seemed the only possible means of survival.

The young Ocular had damned near panicked the first time that the sun’s rays peered over the horizon. They had not been expecting it, for they were accustomed to the lengthy nights of Feend. Their miles-consuming pace had brought them a healthy distance from Feend in fairly quick time, but now they were paying for it.

Fortunately they were near some burned out city at the time. Clarinda had no idea which one it was. There was so many leftover Mort cities scattered around the entirety of the continent. The more intact ones had been taken over by various tribes and clans and races, but the ones that weren’t worth salvaging were left to deteriorate. The smallish city was one of those, and so Clarinda had them take refuge within. There the young Ocular hid from the sun, as did she. Their needs were entirely different, though. In the case of the Ocular, the sun effectively blinded them. The only Ocular whose eye pigmentation had permitted him to function during daylight was Nagel, and he was dead, obliterated by whatever that hideous green glow had been that had transformed their city into a dead zone.

Clarinda, on the other hand, could function in the sun as long as she was covered from head to toe and thus shielded from the damaging effect that the sun’s rays had upon her.

So while the Ocular hid within darkened buildings, preserving their ability to see, Clarinda would scout the area as thoroughly as she could to make certain that there was no one lying in wait to attack them during their slumber. Once she had ascertained their safety, she returned to the building they had selected to be their shelter, and she and her small army would get some much needed rest.

When the sun set, they headed off on their way once more.

“How do you know for sure where we’re going?” Kerda asked her.

The others were watching her carefully, obviously concerned over the answer. Perhaps they had been talking to each other while she was not around, stirring up concern over their fate under her leadership, instilling doubts. She supposed she couldn’t blame them.

“My mother,” she said, “was an avid collector of various artifacts relating to Morts. She had, among other things, a map. A chart of the terrain that we’re traversing. It marked various cities.”

“You can read the Mort language?”

“A little. Not terribly well, and I can’t pretend to understand the words. But I can sound out city names, and my mother told me who resided in what cities. She enjoyed educating me just for the sake of doing so.”

“And you remember the details of the map? Without looking at it, you know which way we’re heading?”

“Yes. I remember the directions. I have it all up here, tucked away in my head. If I close my eyes, I can see them as clearly as if I had the document in my hands. I know which directions north and south, east and west are...initially by the stars…”

“Did she have a map of the stars, too?” said Turkin suspiciously, sounding far less credulous than Kerda.

“As a matter of fact, she did,” Clarinda said with a certain amount of satisfaction. “A star chart. Groupings of stars in certain patterns can serve as reinforcement for direction. And then there’s the rising and the setting of the sun, which may be woefully inconvenient in many respects but at least serves as a firm determination of east and west.”

“But how do you know?” demanded Turkin.

“How do I know what?”

“That the maps were correct. That your mother’s teachings were correct.”

She was about to come up with a dismissive response, telling him he was foolish to voice such concerns. But then she paused, considered it, and shrugged. “I don’t. Not really.”

“You don’t?” Turkin didn’t sound especially happy to have won his point. The other Ocular had stopped walking and were looking at each other with uncertainty.

“No. It’s entirely possible that everything I was told was a lie. That everything I believed to be true was false. You know,” and her voice grew harsh and pointed, “the way it was for all of you when your parents said they would always be there for you. And now they’re all lying dead, moldering, and birds are trying to eat their flesh and keeling over dead as well…”

The younger Ocular were already starting to sob, and Turkin stepped in close to her, towering over her and said angrily, “Stop it.”

“Then stop trying to sow dissent, Turkin,” Clarinda said, not backing down. “Stop trying to undermine me. If you have no faith in my ability to lead you, then simply walk away. And any or all of you,” she called out, “are welcome to join him. I am not forcing any of you to stay with me, or accompany me to Perriz. You have free will. Go.” She paused and then repeated louder and more forcefully, “Go, I said! Go, if you’re of a mind to! I will do naught to stop you. I will go ahead on my own, if that is what is required. Or you can come with me, and perhaps find a city where we can take refuge and know some measure of peace amongst the wise and peace loving Firedraques.”

The Ocular exchanged uncertain looks, and Clarinda no longer had any patience for it. “Do what you will,” she said, and she started walking in the general direction she knew Perriz to be. At that moment she honestly didn’t know if they would follow her or not. Within moments, though, she heard their heavy tread, and suddenly she was raised into the air. She looked around in surprise and saw that Turkin, looking annoyed but resigned, was lifting her onto his shoulders. “No point in moving at your speed when we can move at ours,” he said.

Every single one of the Ocular moved into formation behind him and they continued to make their way across unknown terrain, guided by the memories of a Piri and the glittering of the North Star.

ii.

“What are these?”

Berola had lost track of how many days and nights had passed since they had embarked upon their journey. They had blurred one into the other, each pretty much the same. They would find shelter for during the daylight hours and during the night would march across the tattered landscape of what had once been a world of humans. They crossed long roads made of hard, black surfaces with white stripes down the middle that seemed to go on forever. They crossed bridges, they passed shattered statues. Berola had never given much thought to humans beyond the notion that they had once been the dominant species on the Damned World and now no longer were. Seeing this staggering array of achievements, brought low by the Third Wave of the Twelve Races, she felt the first tinge of regret, starting to think that perhaps something great had once inhabited these lands and that maybe it wasn’t quite fair and just that they had had it all taken away from them. When she had conveyed her thoughts to Turkin, however, he had simply shrugged indifferently. “If they were meant to keep it, they would have managed to overcome the invasion,” he said, and Berola couldn’t think of a way to argue that.

Now, though, Berola had come across something that was new. It cut across the ground, two sets of metal rails with wood planks between them. They seemed to go a great distance in either direction. The other Ocular gathered around to see what she had discovered. Clarinda crouched next to her, touching the coldness of the rails and letting out a low whistle.

“Clarinda, what is it?” Berola said again.

“It bears a strong resemblance to the tracks crafted by Trulls for their Trullers.”

“Their what?”

“Special conveyances that run underground very quickly and take them wherever they wish to go.”

“Have you ever seen one?”

Clarinda smiled grimly. “Trulls have no more love for Piri than your sires did.”

Berola noticed that Clarinda hadn’t exactly answered the question, but she did not pursue it. Clarinda, meantime, rose and took a few steps along the track. “Perhaps they had conveyances similar to Trullers,” she said thoughtfully.

“If we can find one, we can move more quickly,” Kerda said.

“I doubt that will happen. But this track is heading in the general direction that we wish to go. I say we follow it, see where it leads us.”

“Which way?” said Turkin.

Clarinda glanced heavenward once more to make certain that she was properly aligned with the stars and then said, “That way.” Turkin then lifted her onto his back and they set out.

They moved for a good long time without complaint. Berola was rather relieved by this. She had gotten frankly sick of the younger ones mewling about their lost parents. The fact that she had yet to do so was something Turkin picked up on, and he asked her about it. She had just fixed him with a steady gaze and said, “My parents are no great loss.”

“What do you mean by that?” Turkin had asked.

“What I mean by that is that I am not interested in discussing it,” she had said, and that had more or less ended the conversation.

Then one of them, a female, began singing. It was some sort of Ocular marching song, one that they had been taught when they were very young. Another female joined in, and then one of the males, and soon the lot of them were singing in unison.

Clarinda was looking at them nervously, and Berola asked her what the problem was. “I am just worried that someone who would be better off not knowing where we are could overhear and…”

“Shall I tell them to cease?”

Clarinda thought about it for a time, and then smiled wanly. “No. No, it’s all right. This is the first time I’ve seen them happy as a group since the fall of their home. I’m not about to deprive them of that.”

“I think that’s wise, mistress,” said Berola.

“Don’t call me that,” Clarinda said sharply.

“I’m sorry. I…it was just a term of respect…”

“It’s all right.” Clarinda reined herself in and then assured her, “You said nothing wrong. Did nothing wrong. I just…” She closed her eyes. “Do not worry about it. ‘Clarinda’ will be just fine.”

“As you wish, Clarinda.”

So they continued to walk and sing and when the singing ran its course, it was replaced with idle conversation about things having to do with other than their current situation and the loss of their old life. Berola realized that they were actually becoming comfortable with each other.

Every so often they would come upon additional tracks, flaring out to one side before reconnecting with the main one upon which they walked.

With sunrise imminent, they saw a small house a short distance ahead of them. There was what appeared to be a platform raised above the track. The Ocular converged on the small house, and Berola noticed what appeared to be signs posted up on a pole to the left of the tracks, opposite the platform. There were two of them with arrows pointing in opposite directions. “I think those say the directions of cities,” said Berola. “Clarinda, do you have any idea what those say?”

Clarinda climbed down from Turkin’s shoulders and studied them. “Vuh…aye…enn…ay,” she translated of the one pointing in the direction from which they had come.

“Was that on the map your mother showed you?”

“I think so. I think it was. And the other…” The sign was shorter, and this time she sounded it out to herself before a broad smile broke across her face.

“What? What is it?” said Berola.

“Perriz.”

This immediately prompted excited murmurs in response from the Ocular. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Berola, I am sure.”

“How far?” said Turkin. “How far does it say it is?”

“I don’t know. The distances don’t mean anything to me. But that tells us for absolute certain that we are heading in the right direction.” She looked defiantly at the Ocular. “Unless there are any of you left doubting me.”

Many heads were shaken in response.

“Good,” she said, pleased.

They took refuge in the small house opposite the tracks and slept.

iii.

Clarinda… where do you think you are going, my love?

Clarinda twists and turns in her sleep, uncertain, frightened, sure that she is beyond her mother’s grasp, but fearful that she is wrong.

Sunara is drifting naked in a pool of blood in her sanctum back in Subterror, and now she stands and looks contemptuously toward her daughter, one perfect eyebrow raised in amusement. Slowly she rises so that she is standing, the blood coming to her hips, her hair thick with red, pushed back from her flat chest so that Clarinda can see the gashes where her breasts once were.

Do you truly think you can escape me? Escape my reach? Do you honestly believe that anything you are doing is beyond my control or without my permission? You are exactly and precisely where I need you to be. You believe yourself to be 
operating on your own, but you have no free will. You will serve me and the needs of the Piri, even when you think that you are doing what you wish to do. You have nothing save what I give you, and you are nothing save what I allow you to be. And all that 
you will ever be is my daughter.